Cheer it on!
by Beautiful Shiny People
Summary: Shaun thought about saying: "Well, technically WE haven't, but it seems that my close personal friend has met your close personal friend. Oh yeah, technically it was your DICK that went up my ARSE, thought you might like to know that."
1. Chapter 1

The clock ticked loudly in the small all white room, which caused one of the occupants to twitch involuntarily in his seat. He drummed his fingers against his leg while he waited for the doctor to finish reading his transcripts and files; waiting for the onslaught of questions he knew to be coming. "How long has...'Altair' been appearing?" The doctor's voice was slow, somewhat tired sounding. Desmond glanced up, gold-brown eyes locked with his new therapist's.

"Uh..." He thought back, flinching lightly at remembered abuse, fights at school. How old had he been when he first began to notice that he wasn't alone in his head? "Since I was like, ten I think?"

His therapist nodded once, eyes flickering down to the file before they came back up to lock on his face. "And 'Ezio'?"

Desmond internally groaned, mentally feeling one of his personalities smirking at the question. "After I left home, so...sixteen?" The man made a small 'hm' noise before resting his chin on his palm.

"Dr. Vidic was kind enough to give me a list of the treatments you tried when you were with him." Desmond flinched at the mention of his creepy-ass ex-therapist. The doctor tapped a long finger on the pile of papers resting neatly stacked in the manila envelope. "He remarked that nothing was successful?"

"That asshole wouldn't know how to treat a person with a hangnail." His voice changed to a semi-irritated drawl, and the blue-green eyed doctor blinked in confusion before quickly covering it with a professional expression.

"Ah...who would I happen to be speaking to?" The patient's posture relaxed so that he was all but lounging in the chair. He rested his head on lazily curled fingers and gave the therapist an appreciative once over.

"Ezio." A small smirk quirked the edges of his lips, scarred side pulling lightly. He liked the way the cute doctor's ears turn pink, and hummed his approval. "Though you may call me anything you like, _caro mio_." Ezio glanced at the name plate resting innocently on the doctor's desk,and plucked it up with deft fingers.

"So, Dr. Vinci...may I get a first name to go with such a beautiful face?" Yes, the personality could see that Desmond's therapist was nearly drowning in embarrassment, but charming people and making sure there would always be someone to warm his bed was why he was here. He watched with slight disappointment as the doctor fixed him with a stern look.

"No, but thank you for the compliment." Ezio chuckled, setting down the name plate back in its proper place. Dr. Vinci cleared his throat and rested his hands on his desk. "Please can I speak to Desmond again?" He pouted but the smirk settled back on his face.

"What if _I _want to speak to you still?" Dr. Vinci frowned, and the expression caused Ezio to laugh loudly. "Ah, _fine_. But we_ must_ speak again, I can't have Desmond keeping you all to himself." The personality gave the flustered doctor another once over and a large wink before Desmond blinked, looking confused and worried.

"Shit...what did he say?" Clearly the young man of twenty-five was used to cleaning up his personality's verbal messes; he noticed the light blush washed over his therapist's face and sighs. "Sorry about that...he's pretty harmless."

Dr. Vinci nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth though his face was still red . "Though a bit flirtatious, he seemed over-all pleasant."

The session went about like normal, except when Ezio decided he was tired of merely listening in, even though Desmond tried to shut him out. Dr. Vinci seemed much more concerned about his patient (or patients, counting the other two; Altair had yet to appear, and the doctor had come to the conclusion that the personality didn't like speaking as much) than Vidic ever seemed.

The blond therapist smiled largely when their session came to a close. "I'm very glad we were able to talk as much as we did today, I hope to help you with your condition, Mr. Miles." Desmond stood from his chair, rubbing the back of his neck with a small smile.

"Eh, yeah. Hope you weren't too put off by Ezio, he can get a bit...much sometimes." Dr. Vinci laughed lightly and wrote something quickly on a small pad of paper.

"This is an address of a support group for people in similar situations as yourself. I think it would benefit you, Mr. Miles, if you went to a few." Desmond took the slip of paper with a small smile gracing the corners of his lips.

"Thanks doc-I hope to see you soon, _caro_." The patient gave the therapist a little wave before turning and all but strutting down the hall.

Leonardo leaned against his door way and sighs. He runs a hand through his hair and gives a small groan. He was certainly going to have a time with that one.

()()

The bar wasn't very busy this time of the week, which he was thankful for. Trailing his fingertips over colourful bottles, Desmond sighed, his head throbbed softly behind his eyelids. The headaches were becoming worse, but it wasn't something that the bartender felt he should tell his therapist about; it wasn't as if they have to do with his...eh, what did Dr. Vinci call it? Oh yeah, his 'condition'. _Nice way of candy coating it, doc._

Desmond snorted lightly and straightened, popping his back in the process. Damn, the blond was something he wasn't used to, after dealing with the last creep. He itched the side of his nose, yawning and then flinching at the drunken order from his right. Yeah, he was pretty sure Vidic did him more harm than good, and he had only been seeing the bastard because the court ordered it. Fucking Altair, getting him into fucking trouble. _Again_.

"Hey barkeep," He turned, eyes brightening when they fell to rest on Lucy. She leaned on the counter, a grin perking her pretty mouth as he padded over to her like a puppy. "Rum and coke on the rocks, please." Desmond gave her a crooked smile and turned, happily mixing his favourite customer's drink.

He handed it to her. "What are you doing here?" He leaned on his elbows, watching the blonde sip at her drink with poised delicacy. She placed the glass on the scratched countertop and sighed in thanks.

"Unwinding, and I was going to ask how your first session with Dr. Vinci went." Desmond shrugged a shoulder, fingers going up to massage at his temples. Lucy sipped at her drink, blue eyes concerned. Lucy had been his friend for the few months he had been living in New York; they had gotten to know each other due to her being an intern to Vidic. She was probably (apart from his doctors) the only one that knew of his condition (so maybe that was why he had some what of a weird kiddie-school crush on her).

"Fine; he seemed nice. Better than Vidic, that's for sure." Lucy snorted and lifted her drink in something of a salute. The bartender sighed through his nose, feeling his stomach growling for food. "He...said that there's a, uh, support group for people like me."

"Are you gonna go?"

Desmond shrugged and hid a yawn behind his hand. "Hell if I know...I mean, it would be _weird_, you know?" He threaded his fingers through his short hair and glanced at the blonde woman. "Though Dr. Vinci said it might help to meet people who have the same thing as I do." Though he was scared shitless of the thought that he would meet some _real_ crazy people.

Lucy hummed, long thumbs curling over the rim of her glass before her eyes darted up to catch his. "It'll probably be for the best if you go. Talking is as good of a cure as medication, and I'm sure if you meet some other people with the same-" She blinked and coughed politely, not finishing the sentence with '_problem_'. It hadn't ended well the last time; Altair backing her into a corner, scissors in one hand and growling '_We don't have a **problem**_'. "Anyway, I think it would be good for...all of you."

Desmond bit the inside of his cheek in thought, subconsciously grabbing her empty cup in order to refill it. He stood facing the neatly arranged bottles while he mulled over the possibilities. Altair hissed softly in his head, saying that they didn't need help. They didn't need to talk to anyone, especially people who were clearly crazy. They were perfectly _fine_.

The bartender bit down until he tasted blood, bringing himself out of his mind and to the present. He glowered lightly, mixing the rum and coke and turned to a concerned looking Lucy. _You're both the **problem.**_ He thought, half listening to Lucy's comforting voice telling him about her day with a few start-out patients. _I am old enough that I shouldn't need you two anymore. I need **help**_. __

()()

The first time he really noticed he wasn't really _alone_ was when he was ten, weeping and being pummeled by a group of boys larger than himself. They spit on him, kicked him, punched him; he had clawed at his face, trying to block the blows his body was receiving. It didn't help that when he came home that night, late and covered in dirt and blood, his father beat the living hell out him.

Altair appeared when he was jumped for the third time that week; Desmond could remember his mind blanking out, not remembering what had happened till one of the largest boys in the make-shift gang was laying sprawled on the ground, clutching at a broken nose. The sight of his blood pouring out of that face that had been previously screwed up in anger and mockery sent a sense of relief through the ten year-old, and he found himself laughing, choking on tears.

The adults came running then, and cries of '_What the hell did you DO?_' rang through his skull, but he could only grin and laugh, thankful that for once, he _stopped_ it.

The switches were strange when they happened, and Desmond didn't know what brought them on, only that he had to deal with 'Altair's' shit once he was back. Sometimes he caught glimpses of what the other person inside of him did, but after seeing Altair beating someone within an inch of their life, he was content being in the shadows. He just wished that he didn't have to deal with the consequences.

Ezio appearing when he was older was something that came as a surprise. He had moved out of his parents' house (more like escaped) at sixteen and settled on wandering, picking up things as he went along. Loneliness and of course teenage hormones most likely caused his other...self(?) to appear.

When he woke up in a stranger's room, not knowing how the hell he had gotten there, and watching as a woman in her early twenties came into the room with two cups of coffee, Desmond could remember thinking to himself _Great, my first time, and I don't even remember it._

With two other people living inside of his head, Desmond had to admit sometime down the road that his life was seriously fucked up. Ending up in jail on charges of aggravated assault and not even knowing how the hell _that_ happened was the prime factor in causing the bartender to finally admit that _maybe_ he needed help. Well that and the threat that he would go to Rikers if he didn't undergo treatment.

He glanced at the crumpled blue sticky-note paper again, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he waited for the light to change. Should he go? If his therapist suggested that talking to people with the same problem as him might be beneficial to 'recovery' or some shit like that, then maybe...

Gold-brown eyes snapped back to reality when a loud honk sounded from behind. He glanced up and cursed under his breath, revving the engine of his bike and taking off.

()()

A week later found him in front of the building where the meetings were held. A half smoked cigarette rested between his lips as he looked up at the building with a faint sneer. The bartender takes a drag and can't remember when he first picked up the habit; fingers pull away the glowing stick and he crushes it underfoot. _Maybe this is a bad idea..._Desmond ran a hand through his short hair and hummed softly.

"Are you going in, or are you going to stare at the building like a moron?" He turned at the snippy, accented remark. _Oh, I like him._ Desmond heard Ezio purr inside his head, and he felt himself scowl.

A man, about his height with light red-brown hair and eyes with the strangest mixture of grey and green the bartender had seen glared hotly from behind his glasses. A curled fist rested on one of the man's slim hips, and an eyebrow was raised. "_Well_?" He said testily, the hand not resting on his hip making a sweeping gesture toward the doors. There was the sense of déjà vu that the bartender couldn't quite place.

Desmond mimicked the other male's expression by raising an eyebrow; he shifted from one leg to the other and allowed a brief glance over the man's body. _Not too bad..._He thought before giving the man an easy going smile. "Who pissed in _your_ Cheerios this morning?"

A dark scowl twisted the male's thin mouth, and he shoved past the other, muttering under his breath in what sounded like Arabic.

()-()

_Perhaps this will be a 2 or 3 shot. Originally I was going to make it one giant ass one-shot, however I want to switch POVs for a bit. That and I need to practice writing in Shaun's point of view. _

_ANYWAY, DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) or more commonly known as Multiple Personality Disorder is something that I've been reading about for a while. I got this idea in the shower (where quite a bit of my ideas come from :T) and although I have FAR too many stories open...I had to write it down. Dammit. _

_To read more about DID, just go to google and type it in then click whatever website you want; it's interesting stuff._

_Anyway, somethings will probably be wrong; I'm not a psychology majour, nor do I plan to be. So if things are wrong and you know more about this stuff than I do, please just tell me because I do like to learn new things, and because constructive criticism is always welcomed. _


	2. Chapter 2

History was something that kept him from going insane...well, completely he supposed. Reading about past battles, finding out how society was _created_, well it was bloody amazing stuff, and Shaun knew that it was something his mother could never take away from him.

His intelligence kept him going through all the 'lemons' that life could throw at him (or at least he liked to think that) such as his Dad's suicide, to his mother coming into his room at night and-wait, he wasn't going to go there. It got him through scraps with his peers, beating him up because he was the 'weird kid who's dad drowned himself'.

Malik also helped quite a bit as well.

The other person residing in his body had started showing up when he was around twelve. He and his mother (god, why was he still calling her that?) were laying together in bed, her scarlet painted nails scraping down his preadolescent chest while she smoked a fag. Her coppery hair was curled, and the lipstick that left smudges on his neck stained the paper; he absolutely hated the shade red to this day. One of her fingers was making a trail down his stomach while he stared hard at the ceiling above his head, trying not to cry because he knew if he did, that would only make her angry. The next moment Shaun could remember was standing over his mother, her eyes wide and a scream causing her mouth to twist in a square.

The next few hours went by in a blur; his mother's screams caused the neighbours to call the police, and when they found him, he was calmly sitting in the living room his things packed. He could still remember one officer, leaning down beside him and asking if he was alright. That officer had the nicest shade of eye colour, and he remembered the way the shock sparked a glow in the depths when he told him that his mother had been raping him.

Shaun didn't remember the hearing, most likely because _he wasn't there_. Malik had taken his place, which the young boy of thirteen was thankful for. If you wanted to break a limb, it had to be a clean break; he didn't want to look at his mother, all he wanted to do was sleep.

()()

He had been seeing Dr. Vinci for over half a year, and though his 'alter' wasn't violent like some, Shaun was still concerned. He _wasn't_ crazy, just a bit touched in the head. He knew he had been through some very trying things, however he wasn't completely cracked. Right?

"How have you been today, Shaun?" His therapist's smiled kindly, watching as the Brit crossed his legs some what primly.

Shaun's fingers clenched at his grey jumper and he gnawed at his lip, ripping off dry skin. _I need to get some chapstick. _"Fine...my headaches have been getting worse." He shrugged a shoulder and looked out the window. The Brit could hear Dr. Vinci sigh softly and knew he was being difficult. He rolled his eyes and swept a tongue over his slightly bleeding lip. "Last night, I woke up and I didn't know where I was."

"...were you with anyone?" Shaun knew that his therapist was afraid that another alter was appearing, however Shaun had a feeling Malik was taking what he wanted now. He stared hard at the ground, feeling himself flush lightly.

"I...yes." He could remember waking up nose to nose with a handsome man around his age; blinking a few times, Shaun flushed from his neck to the tips of his hair, barely holding in the shriek of confusion and embarrassment. The man's breath ghosted over his face air coming from between scarred lips, and Shaun backed up until he was almost falling off the bed. His back hurt, and when he dressed, he could feel the night suddenly creeping through his body.

Gold eyes had opened, startling Shaun with their colour, and for some reason he was reminded of the officer. _"Malik...?"_ Then the man grumbled something low in Arabic that Shaun had no idea what it meant. He had scurried out the door faster than he could've imagined possible, all the while screaming at the alter inside his head.

Dr. Vinci blinked and quickly wrote down something, nodding to himself and mumbling softly in Italian. "Was it Malik?" And the session rolled on with bouts of questions and awkward pauses.

Before Shaun had the chance to leave the office, the blond therapist stopped him. "Have you tried going to the support group I suggested?" Blue/green eyes stared at him hopefully even though both knew Shaun detested the idea of bearing his story to the world (or a group of five, maybe ten people, but that was beside the point).

"No." The historian (well, to be honest, he was a history majour, but the title was so dull) answered. He picked up his laptop bag, rummaging through the contents to find his wallet and bus pass.

Dr. Vinci groaned and Shaun knew he had the urge to bash his head against his cluttered desk repeatedly. They had known each other long enough for Leonardo to drop the professional act and looked exasperatedly up at him. Blue/green eyes had a sheen of disappointment in them, and Shaun felt guilt settle in his stomach. "_Why_?"

He shouldered the bag and rested his weight on on leg while clenching his fingers around his pass and wallet. "The whole town doesn't have to see my sexy bra and panties even though I'm just hanging them on the line." Shaun sniffed primly and rolled his eyes. "Some pervert might try and steal them."

Leonardo's mouth turned down in a frown, but then his eyes lit up like he had figured something out. All those sessions of dodging questions and his therapist finally figured out the historian didn't like to share. "You're afraid with the information you'll give them, someone will use it to harm you?"

Grey-green glanced at the clock hanging above the doorway and he knew that he was running late for a lecture on the Crusades. "Figured that one out, eh? Good for you, you deserve a biscuit. Now if you don't mind-"

"Shaun." An irritated frown dipped the addressee's mouth and he barely bit back his snappy '_What?_' Leonardo quickly scribbled something on a blue sticky note and held it out for the man to take it. "Please, go. There's nothing wrong with sharing your feelings. These people have been through similar situations and they need all the help that others can provide for them." Shaun eyed the paper and finally snatched it with annoyance. Leonardo's mouth turned up in a relieved smile, and he let a gush of air pass through his lips. "_Grazie_, amico mio."

()()

He was going to hate himself for going, he knew it. Deep in the pit up his gut, Shaun had the feeling that something _terrible_ was going to happen, but he swallowed down his nerves and felt his headache getting worse. Before he had left his apartment, the Brit had swallowed three Aleve, hoping that by the time he got off the subway, he would be able to see straight. _Doubt it._

He could feel Malik pushing at his brain, whispering that he wasn't strong enough to handle this, allow him to take over; Shaun grumbled, wincing while he rubbed at his temple. _God dammit _no. If he was going to do this, it would be as _himself_. Luckily he was better adept at holding his alter back, something that Leonardo said looked promising for his treatment.

The subway jerked to a stop and Shaun got up with the mass of people, getting bumped and jarred every which way. He didn't like living here, but it was easier to build a life somewhere that didn't have any memories to go along with it. He felt around for the piece of paper Leonardo had given him two weeks ago; he smoothed his features to a semi-scowl and stomped up the stairs to get to street level.

The place where the meetings were held was a nicely converted warehouse, all angles and sharp lines. "_Rebecca, the one who holds the meetings, is a good therapist. I hope you'll like her...though she is a bit, eh, _brash_ at times."_ Leonardo's words rang in his head, and Shaun felt his gut drop even lower.

Shaun's gaze stopped on one person just staring up at the building. He was resting his hands lazily in the pockets of his white hoodie, and his posture was a mixture of discomfort and ease. A nice black bike was parked behind him, and Shaun felt the niggling sense of faint remembrance prod at the back of his head. _Why is that familiar? _Shaun studied the man's profile for a moment, eyes tracing down a broad nose, short brown hair, a faint scar marring one side of his mouth.

The historian's mind came to a stop and he felt his ears heat in a flush. _Oh god _no_. Nononononno-_"Are you going in, or are you going to stare at the building like a moron?" _Oh good one, just when you _didn't_ want attention drawn to you! Idiotic _novice_!_

The man turned and Shaun mentally groaned as those same gold-brown eyes met his; the other male's lips were pulled into a slightly irritated scowl, and Shaun nearly scoffed. He felt his heart pound a little quicker inside of his chest, but he merely rested a fist on his hip and made a sweeping gesture toward the door. "_Well?_"

There was a pause as they stared at each other. The man seemed to relax some what, and an easy going smile caused his entire face to brighten. "Who pissed in _your_ Cheerios this morning?"

Shaun blinked, and in an instant he was gone. Malik twisted his mouth into a threatening scowl, and he pushed past the infuriating novice, grumbling under his breath in Arabic.

()()

He sat on one of the uncomfortable chairs arranged in a circle, one hand picking at the black pants he was wearing, the other arm hanging uselessly by his side. People were talking amongst themselves, to people that they already knew, and the idiot that had been standing outside staring uselessly at the building sat beside him. "Hey man, I didn't mean anything by what I said." Malik glanced out of the corner of his eye, studying the face that he had studied closely one night about three weeks ago.

He grunted softly, crossing his legs at the ankles. _He_ wasn't the person he wanted to be speaking to, obviously the idiot didn't know that as he kept talking. "I mean, this is my first time to something like this, so I guess I'm kinda on edge." The man gave him a sheepish smile before he held out his hand. "Uh, my name's Desmond by the way."

Malik eyed the hand as if it had offended him some how, but grasped the calloused palm and gave it a soft squeeze. "Malik." He watched as the man's eyebrows furrowed slightly. Malik snatched his hand away and rested it on his knee.

The man opened his mouth to say more, but a small black haired woman clapped her hands to announce the start of the meeting.

()()

Malik stared at Desmond from the corner of his eye, wondering if _his_ idiot would make an appearance. The alter chewed lightly on the inside of his mouth, flinching when the taste of blood invaded his senses. Gold-brown flickered over to meet his, and a smile curled one side of the other male's mouth. Malik pulled his mouth into a frown and tore his eyes away from the idiot's profile and to the black haired therapist.

People exchanged stories of their successes and their failures; Malik listened with interest until the woman's light eyes landed on him and she raised an eyebrow. "What about you, newbie? We haven't heard from either of you yet."

The alter heard Desmond sharply suck in air beside him; he resisted looking at the man's expression, so he didn't remove his eyes from the therapist's. "I have nothing to say."

The woman's mouth perked up in a knowing smile. "Really now? Why don't you allow Shaun to speak?" Malik felt his heart thud in his chest as he stared wide-eyed at the woman. She raised an eyebrow as the room grew still. The alter felt Desmond staring at him quizzically while the other people stared at him with pity.

He grit his teeth and clenched his right hand; Malik felt his head throb, and a soft growl left his mouth. No, he was supposed to be the strong one, the one that was able to take on all the hurt and disappointments in order for Shaun to be okay; that was why he was _here_!_ God dammit you idiot. Let me take over again, I can handle this._ Malik sighed, glaring at his feet as Shaun tried to reason with him. _Please, listen to me for once!_

He blinked, and Shaun found that the entire room was staring at him, waiting for something to happen. The woman he assumed was Rebecca was writing something down while sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth. He mentally scoffed, crossing his arms loosely in front of his chest. _What a child_.

The black haired therapist looked up from her writing, clicking her pen on her thigh before standing. A grin covered her face, and Shaun found himself frowning even more. Overly happy people were not up there on the things he liked list. "Alrighty then everyone! Let's stop there for today, and I'll see you all next week." The group of people glanced in his direction with pitying glances before they shuffled out of the room, saying goodbyes to the therapist.

The man from outside still sat beside him, and out of the corner of his eye, Shaun could see the male's finger's picking at his worn jeans. Rebecca's shoes came into the historian's view, causing Shaun to turn his attention up to the woman. "Hey," Her eyes flickered between the two men. "How's everything with you guys?"

Shaun pursed his lips and stood from the chair. Rebecca was shorter than he was, however when he tried to push past her, the woman pushed him back with surprising force. "Let me go, I don't want to talk." Gray-green averted from gray as Shaun tried to pull his arm from the therapist's grasp. She sighed, and Shaun heard the other male (he couldn't recall his name seeing as Malik had taken over before they introduced each other) stand from his chair.

Thin fingers unwound from his arm and Shaun stepped away from the people who were invading his personal space. Rebecca's mouth pulled down from her smile, and Shaun felt that he was disappointing someone who could possibly _help_. "I hope you guys come back next week." She said, eyes flickering between the two. Shaun glanced at the other male who's mouth was thinned to a line. Something seemed _different_ about him..."I won't make you guys talk until you're ready, okay?" Rebecca smiled again, giving them both a thumbs up. Shaun scoffed audibly and turned on his heel.

"I certainly hope so, doctor. I do not need to talk to anyone about my problems." He walked away from the two, an uneasy feeling in his gut making him walk some what quicker. The Brit slipped his hand into his pocket, searching for money for a cab.

_Why did you have to sleep with another crazy person?_ Shaun stopped on the sidewalk, a sour expression on his face as he counted the inadequate amount of money. Eyes glanced down the New York road, sighing in irritation as he glanced up at the darkening sky. _Of all the people in New York to wake up next to...it had to be someone who goes to these things. _

Malik remained quiet which was unusual, but Shaun shrugged off his alter's silence, instead opting for trying to fish out his cell phone in order to check the time. _At least it's not too late..._ "Hey." Shaun turned, his expression neutral as the man from before practically _appeared_ out of fucking no where behind him.

Shaun raised an eyebrow, waiting for the other man to continue. His stomach rumbled lowly, and the historian was reminded that he hadn't eaten since the night before. "Are you going to continue with your fabulous speech?" The male blinked, swaying lightly on the spot as he stared at the Brit; his expression was slightly bewildered, however he seemed to snap back into focus in a second.

"Ah, sorry about that." The male lifted a hand to his head, running his fingers through short brown hair, causing it to stick up in ends that had the corners of Shaun's mouth slightly perk in amusement. "Um, yeah, anyway...have we met before?"

Shaun shifted from one foot to the other, loosely crossing his arms over his chest as he thought through possible outcomes of saying _"Well, technically _we_ haven't, but it seems that my close personal friend has met _your_ close personal friend. Oh yeah, technically it was your _dick_ that went up my _arse_, thought you might like to know that incase we go out for coffee sometime." _He fixed his gaze on the other male before shrugging a shoulder. "I don't know, mate. We might've, we might've not." Shaun flickered his eyes upward, glancing at the infamous skyscrapers towering over them. "It's a big city."

The man turned his gaze upwards as well, shoving his hands into his hoodie before humming. "...yeah, guess you're right." His attention snapped back to the historian, a frown dipping the side of his mouth where the scar rested. "It feels like I've met you before," He waved a hand dismissively in the direction of the warehouse. "This whole thing."

Shaun hummed, slightly annoyed that he wouldn't get home anytime soon if this idiot kept blabbering to him. He could almost hear Malik snickering in his head, but he chose to ignore his alter's taunting. The historian opened his mouth in order to bid the moron goodnight, that there was a day-old pot-pie in the refrigerator that needed eating, before his stomach gave a loud groan of protest.

The idiot snorted lightly and gave him a lightly mocking smile. "You wanna get something to eat? Maybe we can properly introduce ourselves; my name's Desmond Miles, by the way."

()-() **End **()-()

_Yup, ending it there because I feel that if I try to continue this story, it'll end up either unfinished or just end up bad. Anyway, in my mind, Shaun has a split personality disorder rather than full out DID. Originally I wanted for Leonardo to be one of Shaun's other personalities, however I feel that Leo being the therapist was a better approach. Desmond has DID because one of the requirements for diagnosis is having at least two or more personalities that are active, so this is another reason why Shaun only has a split personality disorder. _

_To clarify (because even to me it was a bit confusing, and I just didn't know how to really tie it together with out it becoming an even longer story): Malik (Shaun's alter personality) _did_ sleep with Altair (Desmond's alter personality) and they had somewhat of an established relationship, the other two (and Ezio) didn't know about. _

_Phew! Hope you liked it though! _


End file.
